


Bullseye

by thesunsethour



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Angst, Episode: s5e05, this is just a lil post ep fic about barney
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-19 12:14:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20657081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesunsethour/pseuds/thesunsethour
Summary: They called Barney Thompson Bullseye in France, Tommy remembered.  He never missed the mark.





	Bullseye

1925

“And the truth is... we died together once before. Arthur, me, Danny Whizzbang, Freddie Thorne, Jeremiah and John.”

John’s funeral, hosted on the dying days of 1925, was a suitably dramatic affair. Oh, Polly was displeased at that, but Polly seemed displeased at most everything Tommy did nowadays.

It’s been a few hours since he made that speech over his younger brother’s grave, and a few seconds since he had sat back down alongside his older brother, their London coats touching the stones of Small Heath.

They use to run around these streets as boys, playing cops and robbers and football and soldiers. They’d run until their feet bled over the uneven cobblestones, their mother not allowing them to ruin their only good school shoes on mucky Watery Lane games.

Tommy almost smiles, remembering John’s squeaky voice calling after him and Arthur, as their longer legs left John behind. John would pout and moan but never for long, and he would laugh the loudest out of any of them when Ada, with the lack of balance yet unparalleled confidence that only being a toddler would allow you, would fall into the same puddle for the tenth time that day.

They were kids then, poor yet fierce. 

“You didn’t mention Barney”, Arthur said from beside him, voice tight and eyes shut.

His remark threw Tommy, and for a few seconds he could only stare at his brother.

“Barney fucking Thompson?”

“Yes, Barney fucking Thompson.”

Tommy blinked slowly, gaze still on Arthur, and promptly shoved a cigarette in his mouth. Jesus Christ, the things that man says sometimes.

“Barney’s been in the fucking asylum for over five years now. He’s not fucking dead, but what kind of living is it, eh?”, Tommy said, lighting his cigarette with a practiced ease, and staring at the smoke as it rose to the heavens.

“He may be locked away but he was one of us though, weren’t he? He was John’s best fucking friend-“

“That’s a stretch.”

“Shut the fuck up, Tom. He was one of us, and you didn’t even mention his name.”

1929

Operation Big Fucking Bang was a success, and before he knew it, Tommy found himself sitting beside Barney Thompson in his old bedroom in their Small Heath house. The man hasn’t stopped moving since they left the asylum, fidgeting and twitching and shaking. When Tommy handed him a gun, however, his hand stilled with a terrifying finality. They used to call him Bullseye in France. Never once did he miss the mark.

“I’m guessing you don’t sleep here anymore, eh Tom?”, he smiled, an air of giddiness around him. 

“No, I don’t. I live out the country now, supposedly better for your health.”, Tommy said, smoking his eleventh cigarette of the day.

Barney grinned again, and picked at a loose thread on his faded green jumper. He had no clothes of his own, and so was wearing one of Tommy’s old relics. Tommy was also 75% sure the tattered jumper used to belong to Arthur; it had certainly done the rounds.

“When’s the job then, Sergeant Major?”

“Not for a few weeks yet, Bullseye, be patient. You can stay here, Jeremiah’s offered to keep an eye on you, make sure you’re alright.”

Barney nodded, and Tommy almost felt bad for getting him into this life. Almost. Mosley needed to be stopped, whatever the cost.

“Are you alright, Tom? You keep staring at the wall, there.”

The shovels still rang, though of late Tommy could hear mingled in amongst them the torturous sound of Grace’s last breathes.

“I’m fine, Barney. Now get some sleep.”

Tommy stood to leave, and patted Barney’s shoulder as he’d done a million and one times in France. 

That man had refused a quick way out even after 10 years without the use of his fucking hands. He believed things could change.

Tommy heard Grace’s voice in the back of his mind, and saw the bottom of the Cut clear in his vision. 

Maybe things will change, but not for the likes of him.


End file.
